


A House Is Not A Home

by rustyHalo



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Post-Sburb, only not really because you won't exactly see mentions up in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:36:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustyHalo/pseuds/rustyHalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave contemplates about what's been up and around since he realized that he was in love with his best bro ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A House Is Not A Home

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea because my room's ceiling leaks. And I had to get buckets to save the room. And it was 3 am then, so as I slowly drifted back off to Dream Land, I randomly murmured how sick those rain beats are and then a light bulb came on and you know the rest.  
> Oh hey btw, this was my first Homestuck fanfic ever. Thought you oughta know.

It's been a few years since you confessed to John Egbert. It took you six years before convincing yourself to do so. The consequences were substantial, there were different factors to count on, but in the end, you did. It was ironic, too, because you waited until you could see each other to tell him. The internet was not a very nice confrontational contraption.

And so his birthday came, along with Rose and Jade. The four of you, and Dad, of course, went out to have a picnic in the woods. You steered him towards the opposite direction while the girls and his father set up the chow-down equipment. You took him to a patch of grass in the woodland and, just like that, kissed him.

You were nineteen years old. Years have passed since Sburb. But the bond between you guys were still there, much stronger than ever.

You were nineteen years old, and you kissed your best bro in the whole entire universe and the rest in a meadow. How's that for ironic?

To feed more ironicism to your irony monster ego, he kissed back, and, after you asking if that was a yes, kissed you again you big numbnut jerk hehe.

And then you find it hard to believe. Right after graduating college, you drove to Washington in your very own badass car and took all of your shit with you. Bro even assisted you, which was really kind of weird and awkward but you know, whatever. You picked Egbert up, left Bro with Dad, drove to that same meadow and built your own house.

 _Your own fucking house, man!_ Tops all the ironic things you've ever done so far in the Perfect Suburban White Picket Fence American Family Dream category.

Except for the part that it looked like shit. It was goddamn horrible, that house.

You don't understand how or fucking _why_ Egbert would live in this dinky old less-of-a-bungalow-more-of-a-hut with you, considering how he lived in one of the best suburban homes in the area. He lives _with you_ in _here_ , for fuck's sake! Even you can't handle that.

But he can, and he did. What driving force he may have to last this long, you know not. It's Egbert, after all.

It is now nine months since you built and moved into this "house." You're surprised the shack even lasted this long. But Dadbert, who has been very supportive of you two and the relationship, keeps visiting you two and offering to buy you a better one just a ride away from Maple Valley (and supporting you financially, feeding you cakes, cleaning up your place, you get the picture). For some reason, John always says no, with a glowing smile.

Washington's infamous rainy Friday night happens to fall right now. You evacuate your turntables under the bed and secure your polaroid photos in a Ziploc bag. Here we go again, John sighs.

You stare up at nothing and sigh as well, the rain making sick beats from dripping into the roof and down to your ceiling's holes. Egbert chuckles adorably and picks up a pail or two. He points you to the kitchen, winking. If only that meant something else (you guess it would if you were, I dunno, a troll maybe.).

You set up the quick fixes all around the house, and John tails you, bending down to move the rainwater-catchers in the most appropriate position and angle. He grins albeit tiredly, and pushes a mixing bowl a few inches to the right to catch a raindrop in time. That was supposed to be your talent, but you guess you're fine with it rubbing off on him.

Finally, the whole house is a driving test of assorted shapes and sizes and colors. You get frustrated and look at the mess of pots and pans and buckets in there, but then Egderp smiles and kisses you, and suddenly, that old junk of a shack becomes a happier, warmer place.

Suddenly, it wasn't so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I do hope you know that everything unmentioned, ie Egbert's driving force to last so long with the shack and Dave, and Egbert's constant no to Dad and the glowing smile, means that he is very much in deep shit love with Dave fucking Strider. I shouldn't have told you that.


End file.
